


the guilty hide, the guilty run (You're a marked man brother)

by agirlnamedchuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedchuck/pseuds/agirlnamedchuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Two times Bucky shared clothes with Steve, one time Steve tried to, and the one time Bucky accepted)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You're such a jerk.” he said turning back to sleep but Bucky caught the end of a smile on his face. </p>
<p>“Yeah well, you're a punk so I guess we're a match."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the guilty hide, the guilty run (You're a marked man brother)

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this has the weirdest format in the world and originally I wanted to do a 5 times kind of thing but the first two sections got too long so I changed it a bit. It's winter soldier compliant, or as much as I can make it be seeing as I haven't seen the film yet. 
> 
> I'm kind of nervous, this is the first thing I've written in months that isn't a drabble and I've never written Bucky's pov before. 
> 
> Title is from Marked Man by Mieka Pauley

1.

It's two days from Christmas and the Sisters are convinced Steve's going to die. Tommy Sullivan said he heard they wanted to bring in Father Martin for Last Rites. 

Bucky thought it'd be a waste. Steve always got sick during the winter (and during the summer and spring, honestly the first month of fall was probably the only time of year where he wasn't coughing or wheezing.) 

They'd brought Father Martin in before, the first year Steve and Bucky both came to the orphanage, Steve had caught a cold he couldn't shake and it only got worse when Lindy Brown brought him some flowers as a get well present and he had an allergic reaction so bad his throat nearly swelled shut. 

They'd all thought he was going to die, everyone but Bucky who swore up and down that Steve Rogers was too stubborn to die. 

Steve proved them wrong and lived through that winter no worse for the wear even if he kept wheezing a bit more often for a few months. 

Steve would prove them wrong this time too. Bucky believed it, believed in the sheer bullheadedness of his best friend the way he didn’t believe in much else. 

Still even if Steve was going to be alright, it wasn’t going to hurt anybody if he checked on him, was it? Someone had to keep an eye on him after all. 

As soon as Steve got sick Sister Maria shut him up in the sick ward, all by himself, and refused to let Bucky in. Steve probably would have said it was for his own health but Bucky was sturdy and he couldn’t even remember the last time he'd gotten sick so he thought it was because she didn't like him. 

To be fair he didn’t like her very much either, especially not with her refusing to let him see Steve. 

That was two weeks ago and even though Sister Maria and Sister Beatrice kept a knowing eye on him for the first week or so, they'd gone soft and relaxed, too busy with the holidays to worry about one mischievous boy in a place full of dozens. 

It was easy to creep into the sick ward, Sister Rose was supposed to be the nurse but everyone knew she and Sister Marguerite skipped out on it at night to go play cards. It was even easier to find Steve—one tiny little body in an cold room. 

Bucky frowned, Steve always mumbled in his sleep except when he was real sick and for a second he thought about what Tommy Sullivan said but then pushed it away.

Steve was fine, Steve would be fine and that was that. 

He crept quietly across the floor until he was at last by Steve's cot. They'd kept him by the heater at least but Bucky still saw the way he shivered, his entire body shaking, it made him look even smaller somehow.  


Bucky didn't blame him, it was the coldest winter they'd had in at least three years and even now he'd put on an extra shirt and brought his blanket with him. 

“Hey Steve, wake up.” Bucky shook him, maybe just a bit more gently than he would have if Steve wasn't sick. 

Steve slowly woke up drowsily blinking for a few minutes and looking like it took all the effort in the world but his eyes widened when he saw Bucky and at last he smiled. “What are you doing here?”

'Someone has got to take care of you.' Bucky wanted to say but knew he wouldn't, that wasn't how things worked between the two of them. 

“Is that how you treat your best friend who braved Sisters to come visit you for Christmas?” Bucky teased, unable to help himself. Just seeing Steve awake made him feel better than he had in days even if he could hear the raspy edge stuck to Steve's words. Steve's color wasn't even that bad, paler than normal maybe but not bad. 

“It's Christmas already?”

“No, but you know that old bat Sister Maria isn't gonna let me in here to see you so it might as well be.”

“Bucky.” Steve scolded but he didn't look mad so Bucky figured he'd didn't care all that much. “You know if you were nicer to her maybe--”

“Nope. She don't like me and I don't like her and that's just the way it is.” Bucky said disagreeing. “You want to open your present or what?”

Steve's eyes narrowed as Bucky dug the clumsily wrapped present out from where he'd hidden it in the blanket. He'd been hiding it for a few days, knowing if anyone knew they'd probably steal it for a laugh. “How'd you afford a present?”

He shrugged, nervous despite himself, they'd been friends for two years and there was no one he was closer to but they'd never given gifts before, mainly because they could never afford it. “Selling papers for O’Donnell, says he's never seen anyone sell more than me.”

Steve was quiet, running his hands over the wrapping paper. He looked up and biting on his lip the way he did when he was nervous. “You didn't have to give me a present, you know that right?” he said quietly. “I know what they say but I swear I'm not dying, I'm not.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and then punched Steve on the shoulder, ignoring the yelp he got back—he hadn't hit him that hard. “Don't be an idiot, I know you're not dying. It's my money and I can spend it how I want, and if I wanna buy my pal a present then I will so shut up and open it already.”

Steve still looked unsure and Bucky jokingly raised his fist and he finally laughed, eyes crinkling the way he did when he was happy. “Alright, alright. Let's see if Bucky Barnes has good taste.” 

“I've got the best and you know it.” he said but he couldn't look away from Steve's skinny hands pulling the wrapping paper, his heartbeat echoing loud in his ears. What if Steve thought it was dumb? Or what if Bucky had gotten the wrong kind? It's not like he knew all of that fancy shit, that was Steve's thing. 

Steve looked down at the present and then back at Bucky with wide too blue eyes. “You got me a sketchbook? A real one?” he said awe in his voice, hands running over it the way Bucky had seen guys touch their dames and Sister Agatha her fancy chocolates. 

“So you like it?” he asked just to make sure. 

“Like it? Bucky it's the nicest present anyone's ever gotten me in my entire life.” Steve said and his smile was brighter than anything Bucky had ever seen. It felt like someone had punched him in the chest, knocking all the breath out of him—in a good way, somehow. 

Bucky realized a bit later that he was still staring at Steve, cheeks flushed pink and mouth slightly open. Steve was still looking at the sketchbook with that same amazement so he figured he hadn't noticed, thanked the Lord Almighty that Steve hadn't looked up. 

He coughed and stood up. “I guess I should be going then.”

Steve looked up at him and startled, “You're leaving already?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair and kept his gaze straight at the chipping wallpaper. “Yeah yeah, should let you get your rest, right?”

“Right.” Steve said softly, giving him a small smile but Bucky thinks about how lonely Steve must have been, stuck here all alone and sick for two whole weeks and it feels like he's kicking a puppy. 

“Damn it.” he muttered under his breath and then turned marching over to the bed and carefully moved Steve over so there was room for him. Steve looked surprised and Bucky flushed, trying to defend himself. “If I'm staying, then I'm sleeping too. I'm tired and not all of us get to spend our days resting.” he said teasingly. 

It wasn't the first time they slept in a bed together whether it was for warmth or because one of the bigger kids had stole one of their beds but it was the first time since before Steve got sick and Bucky felt almost awkward. 

Steve laughed quietly but it was still too much and part way through he started coughing. Bucky watched him carefully but knew well enough to stay away. Steve didn't like people touching him until he caught his breath, said it made things more difficult when they did. “You know, I'd be out there with you if I could.”

Bucky ran a hand over his back when Steve finally stopped coughing. “Get better first and then we'll see.” he said and it came out more fond than he had meant it to. He hoped Steve hadn't noticed. 

Steve set the sketchbook down gently, reverently on the beside table and curled up in a neat little ball on his side, he always slept that way when he was sick because it hurt his chest too much otherwise. 

Bucky usually slept sprawled out on his back but he did the same as Steve, trying not to touch him. The bed was tiny though and Bucky had just hit a growth spurt a few months before and in the end he was still touching him anyway. 

Steve's skin was cold from the heater that barely worked and sickness but to Bucky it felt like a hot brand, it was so warm he almost pulled away because he thought it would hurt. 

He tried to fall asleep, he could usually ignore the sound of Steve coughing able to tell by now when it was serious and when it was normal (or at the very least normal for Steve) but he couldn't ignore the way Steve shivered, practically flinching from the cold. The last thing they needed was something to set Steve back and push his cold into pneumonia. 

“Hey, sit up for a second?” Steve complied, looking half asleep even if with his teeth chattering so loud Bucky could swear all of Brooklyn could hear it. 

Bucky pulled off his over-shirt and tossed it at him ignoring Steve's squawk of protest. 

“You're gonna freeze to death.” Steve accused but Bucky noticed the way his eyes flicked down to the shirt, looking at it with envy and that was settled then wasn't it? 

“You know I don't get cold that often, not with you next to me anyway. Just put it on? I can't sleep with you shaking like that anyway.” Sometimes the best way to get Steve to do anything was to trick him into it otherwise they'd spend two hours arguing about it before one of them gave in. 

Steve scowled at him and pulled the shirt over his head, blond hair sticking up wildly. “You're such a jerk.” he said turning back to sleep but Bucky caught the end of a smile on his face. 

“Yeah well, you're a punk so I guess we're a match.” Bucky already felt colder but that didn't matter. He glanced back at Steve and then pulled his own blanket over him, figuring that was about as warm as Bucky could get him. 

Steve rolled back over slightly, glaring at him but Bucky thought he looked better already. “You're ridiculous.” He knew the only reason Steve didn't argue was because he was so worn out from being sick. 

Bucky ignored him, curling tighter into his own ball, arms wrapped around himself for more warm. It was quiet then and he thought Steve must have fallen asleep and he was nearly there when he felt Steve roll closer to him, their legs suddenly pressed up against each other, Steve's knobby spine pressed against his.

He wanted to ask what he was doing, wondered if it meant anything but he was suddenly so very tired and sleep felt closer and easier than it had been in days now that he knew for sure that Steve was okay. 

“Night Stevie.” He said quietly and Bucky was fast asleep before he heard Steve's reply but some part of him knew it was a small 'thank you.'

When Steve gets better the first thing he draws is a surprisingly realistic sketch of Sister Maria looking like a bat. Bucky sticks it to the wall next to his bed and cant help but grin every time he sees it. 

2.

Steve's still up when Bucky gets home from his midnight shift. The part of him that's still angry wishes he wasn't even if the rest of him is glad that he's seen Steve at least once today after days of nothing. His anger wins out over the relief but even that's defeated by how exhausted he is. He's not sure how many more double shifts he can keep pulling but he's not dumb enough to turn away extra money, not when allergy season is right around the corner. 

Steve looks at him for a moment and then goes back to his drawing without saying a word, the way it has been for the past four days. Bucky spent most of the second day of silence trying to figure out if they've ever had a fight last longer than this one. He's still not sure if the week when they were twelve and fought over who snored louder counts. 

He pulled off his boots but that's as far as he gets, the effort to do anything else gone in an instant. He's not sure how long he spends just staring at the wall, he's so tired his head feels like it's been stuffed full of cotton and he can't imagine moving right now. 

“Bucky?” Steve's concerned voice startles him out of his daze and he glances over to see Steve looking at him eyebrows furrowed. Bucky shook his head, irritation spiking up—you weren't allowed to be concerned about people if you were fighting with them right? You shouldn't be allowed to look at them with disapproval. 

Leave it to Steve to never play by the rules. 

“How many more double shifts are you going to work?” Steve's eyes don't leave him as Bucky crawls into bed. It's more of broken springs than an actual bed but it's his and after how long today was it feels like heaven. 

“As many as they throw my way.” He looked like he wanted to complain but they both knew he wouldn't. Winter was always bad for them, practically a guaranteed chance that Steve would get sick and lose whatever job he had at the time and it was better if they saved up money now or tried to at least. With the way everybody had been talking, they both knew they'd need all the money they could get. 

He heard Steve get up and then a moment later the light was off and it was just darkness. “You're going to kill yourself one of these days.” Steve said softly, worry and disappointment clear and it made Bucky's stomach clench and he rolled over so he was facing the wall, away from where he thought Steve was because he hoped that would make it easier. 

Bucky woke up to the sound of Steve puttering around in the kitchen which probably should have been the first sign something was wrong, Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in long enough for Steve to be up too but he was too tired to notice it. “What are you doing?” He said yawning. Steve didn't mind getting up early but Bucky's six am shifts were too early for even him to handle with cheer. 

Steve gave him a tiny smile but it faded quickly and he sat a plate of toast down on the table. “Making you breakfast, I've got to go to the Davis' shop today.” Steve was an errand boy who tended to help out wherever anyone would take him. 

Bucky swore, stumbling to his feet and trying not to get tangled in his blanket. “Is it that late already? I can't believe I slept through my alarm.” Henderson was going to kill him for being late, the guy already had it out for him.  
“You didn't sleep through your alarm. I turned it off.” Steve said calmly watching him and Bucky froze looking at him in confusion. 

“What?” 

“I turned it off and told your boss you were sick but you'd probably be well enough to be back tomorrow.” 

“Why the hell did you do that?” Bucky demanded, and the only reason he wasn't yelling was because Steve's face was suddenly unreadable—the way it always got when he was angry and he was trying hard not to be. 

“Why? Jesus Bucky, why do you think? You leave at six in the morning and most nights you come home past midnight. You're so tired you stumble around like you're drunk and it's a miracle if you make it to bed with your boots off.”

Bucky kept silent torn between being furious and exasperation, by the time he'd finally picked anger Steve was already getting ready to leave. Steve looked at him and then rolled his eyes, “If you want to argue about this then we can when I get off work but I swear Buck if you go to work.”

“Nosy punk.” Bucky muttered, tearing into the eggs viciously and annoyed at how good they tasted. 

By the time Steve got home Bucky wasn't angry anymore just restless. He'd slept and then spent the rest of the day cleaning up the apartment even if it wasn't that messy. It felt weird to have so much free time and his skin was itching and begging him to go do something, to get up and move but he knew Steve would have a heart attack if he came home and Bucky wasn't here. He'd probably go down to the docks and start yelling, giving himself an asthma attack while he was at it. 

“I'm going out dancing.” Bucky said.“You coming?”

Steve studied him and then he nodded, taking the olive branch. The clothes he wears are handy downs—mostly Bucky's old clothes and even then they still hang off him slightly but Bucky nods his approval anyway, breath catching in his throat for a second. 

They go to a place where they get cheaper drinks because Bucky's a regular and everybody likes him, even like his small little friend. Bucky finds a girl and her friend easily, charming them into giving Steve a chance but some of the friend's enthusiasm fades when she sees Steve and Bucky has to push away the urge to demand what she thinks is wrong with him. Steve's the best guy he knows and he doesn't deserve to be treated like that. 

Steve goes to get his partner a drink and by the time he gets back she's foxtrotting with another guy. Bucky raises his eyebrows at him but Steve shakes his head and grins so he keeps on dancing anyway. 

Bucky's always loved dancing, appreciates the need to be constantly moving or you'll fall flat on your face. His Partner—Kathy? Kitty?--is a decent dancer, energy outweighing skill but Bucky's got a different partner on his mind. 

He still remembers teaching Steve how to dance, most of the first few times they'd been laughing so hard and stumbling all over each other but by the end of it nobody could deny that Steve could dance.  
That was years ago though and some part of Bucky is desperately curious to know if Steve's gotten better or gotten worse, if he'll trip over his toes like he did at first or if he's been practicing with somebody. 

Despite himself he searches the crowd for Steve, smiling widely when he finds him and Steve gives him a small grin in return and Bucky may keep on dancing but his attention is miles away, unable to look away from Steve and the intense look in his eyes. 

Sometimes that happens. He'll look at Steve or he'll look up and catch Steve looking at him and for no reason at all he won't be able to pull himself away. After a while he'll realize what he's doing and he'll always jump up, face red and change the subject or badger Steve into going out. Steve never mentions it so Bucky follows his lead and doesn't either. That's a road of embarrassment he doesn't want to go down but he knows it's going to happen one of these days.

His partner catches his attention again, asking if he wants to get a drink and when Bucky turns back to where Steve was there's nothing but air. Bucky excuses himself, says he thinks his friend is in trouble (or starting it knowing Steve) and rushes outside. The air is cool against his sweaty skin and he can hear the familiar sounds of someone getting beat up. 

He turns the corner just in time to see Steve stumbling back to his feet, lip cracked and bloody and what looks like the beginning of decent shiner around his eye. The guy he's fighting is about the same height as Bucky but bigger and Bucky cuts in just in time to block another punch that would send Steve sprawling. 

Bucky lunges forward and punches the guy in the stomach. He steps back as the guy doubles over groaning. “Leave.” he snaps out and he can hear Steve panting behind him—the rasp catching onto it and Bucky just prays it doesn't turn into an asthma attack, not with how chill the weather is. 

The guy looks like he's going to say no so Bucky swings out again jabbing him in the same spot and he turns, fleeing back into the dance hall with a nasty scowl on his face. 

That settled Bucky turned back to Steve tilting his head up towards the streetlight and running over the bruise and cuts with a gentle but steady hand. “We need to get some ice on that or it'll swell shut.” 

Steve just nods, eyes wide with adrenaline the way it is after a fight, even if it's a fight he doesn't win. 

“So what'd he do anyway?” Bucky asked for lack of anything else and besides their apartment's on the other side of Brooklyn and no way is he walking that trek in silence. 

“Kept bothering a dame to dance, she said no and he started to grab her.” Steve said with a shrug.

Bucky just hummed in response because there wasn't much to add to that and he'd have done the same if he saw it happening. 

They walked close to each, arms brushing against each other which was how Bucky noticed the goosebumps trailing up Steve's arms. “You cold or something?” It was just turning into the colder part of fall and Bucky was still warm from the dance hall, almost uncomfortably so. 

But Steve hadn't danced and he always ran a few degrees colder than everybody else so it was an easy choice to slid off his jacket and put it around Steve. 

Steve smiled at back at him and then winced when that caused his lip to start bleeding again. “Truce?”

“Truce.” He hadn't really been angry in days, not like at first when he'd been so furious it hurt to look at Steve and even if some small bit of that anger, of that worry had managed to stay it was destroyed by Steve's smile, by the heat rising in Bucky's chest just looking at it, bloodstained lips and all. 

Bucky's already in bed by the time Steve finishes icing his eye and cleaning up his lip, and lazily he gives it one last look over before deciding it'll be fine. He always panics after Steve gets hurt even if it's something as tiny as a split lip, even though he knows Steve is made of tougher stuff than he looks and has been through worse. Once Steve got into a fight and the guy slammed him into the wall so hard it cracked two of his ribs and Bucky had been furious, seething with rage. It'd take two of the guys friends to pull him away and by then he was in worse shape than Steve. 

So sometimes Bucky panics because he doesn't have much left in this world but he has Steve and he'll always watch his back even if it means a few bruises and scrapped knuckles. 

It's quiet now, easy between them like it always is, easy as breathing and maybe it won't be tomorrow. Maybe Bucky will wake up and remember how angry he was when he found out Steve tried enlisting again, how worried he is because eventually someone is going to be dumb enough to take him, eventually someone is going to look past the sickness, past the broken body and see the iron hiding beneath and send Steve off to war. Or maybe Steve will remember how hurt he was when Bucky started yelling, saying it was a crazy idea and Jesus fuck Rogers are you trying to get yourself killed? It hurts worse coming from Bucky, who tries his best but can't understand feeling like your body's stopping you, pulling you down all the time. 

For now though there's no anger, no silences, just Steve and Bucky and their little apartment. 

It's enough for now

3.

Captain America and his friends chase the Winter Soldier through seven different countries before giving up. It is not until four months after what was Shield has been shattered to pieces that they see any sign of him. 

They're in Venezula—in Caracas and the Black Widow and Falcon have been distracted by the third burned out building they've found while searching. The good Captain remains at his hotel and he easily slips into his room, sitting cross legged on the only chair while he waits for the man to get out of the shower. 

This is not a conversation he wanted to have. His memory is made up of frayed bits and pieces but even still he remembers that Rogers was a stubborn man, even when he was much smaller. 

Still it is necessary and so he waits. 

“Bucky.” The Captain gasped out in what he thought was surprise, hair still damp but clothed. 

He cannot contain his flinch at Barnes' name. It is a flaw that he is working on but very few people ask for his name these days and none of them would ever say it with the kind of emotion the Captain does. 

“Not really.” He cannot know how much of Barnes' memory is missing, if the scraps he has is enough to count as a lifetime, but he knows enough to know they are not the same. 

Bucky Barnes was full of bravado, as charming as he was cocky. He knows that Barnes fought and laughed, that as often as he charmed women he pined away for his best friend. He is not even the Bucky Barnes from after. Not the boy (not a man) who smiled less, something haunted in his gaze. 

They are nothing alike, Hydra had stolen Barnes' loyalty, twisted as it became and his skills with a rifle but discarded everything else. 

That is not enough to be a person. 

The Captain is silent, as if afraid he'll flee at the very first sound. But he is not as skittish as he was, the influx of memories is no longer so alarming and his programming is breaking down at a more manageable rate if such a thing exists. 

The Winter Soldier was a wounded animal and he is not. 

He is neither of them. 

He is the scraps left behind trying to clumsily sew himself together. 

But still he must fix their mistakes and he remembers enough of Barnes' to know that he was protective of the Captain. 

“You need to go back to your home.” Bluntness is a practicality, a necessary weapon and he uses it because he is not sure how to speak with emotions yet, there is very little of him that cares about the feelings of others but part of him—Barnes' perhaps does not want to hurt this man. 

“I'm not going to leave you, I can't.”

He looks over at the Captain, the determination clear and it is easy to see the quickest way to break him, he is bad at hiding his tells and Bucky Barnes is the biggest of them all. “I'm not him-- I can't be.” some part of him that is vicious and cruel and he cannot know where that comes from because Barnes could be vicious too, that part of him refuses to be Barnes. 

Why should a dead man get to live twice? When he's barely lived at all?

“I am not the Winter Soldier either.” He added quietly, firmly. “But I can't be Barnes. Not right now, maybe not ever and that's all you're searching for.”

“I just want to help you.” The Captain protests and maybe it is true but he can't trust anyone's kindness, not yet and not from Rogers who so desperately longs for his friend that he'd take him in his place. 

“If you want to help me then give me space.” He pauses looking considerate. “Or will you cage me up too?”  
The Captain flinches at the mention of Hydra and he sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Sorry—I'm working on that.” Sometimes he doesn't think before he speaks, words tumbling out that he never meant to say, sometimes he goes places he does not mean to. 

“Give me space and we'll see.” He says and thinks that is enough, even if it's not he has no intention of letting the Captain or his friends see him anytime soon. 

“See?”

He just shook his head and got up from the chair, wincing at the slight tug on his muscles. 

There was no point in saying he needed to see if he could be Barnes. If he could then the Captain would find out sooner or later and if he couldn't then perhaps it was better for him to never know. 

“Bucky, if you need me--”

He smirks at him—he does not smile these days but it is one of his nicer expressions. “I know where to find you.”

“You could stay.” The Captain says at last and he does not specify whether he means stay with him in the hotel or stay with him for something more. He can read the resignation in his tone. He knows it's not just from him, his friends have been pushing him to leave and there is work to be done at home. 

Captain America cannot run forever. 

He considers it for a moment and just for a single moment desperation rises over him and there is nothing more he wants to do then stay. He wants to give in to this foolish desire, so rarely is he allowed to have things he wants, so rarely does someone give him a choice. 

But. 

The Captain is as broken as he is, in different ways perhaps but still broken all the same. You cannot fix two broken things by smashing them together and wishing it works out. The way things are now they would destroy each other or more likely he'd destroy the Captain. 

“No, I really can't.” He says quietly and he is almost gone from the room when the Captain speaks again. 

“Do you want my jacket?” The Captain asks and a memory passes through his mind as quick as a snapshot of sharing clothes, sharing blankets and beds. He remembers doing the same when it was cold, giving Steve his coat anytime he thought it was too chilly. 

His own clothes are dirty and torn, holes scattered everywhere and his boots are covered in layers of dirt so thick they look black. 

He laughs for no reason at all and shakes his head. “Goodbye Steve.” 

The Captain leaves Venezuela the next day and the man goes back to fixing his mistakes, leaving another burned out building in his wake.  
There are no casualties. 

 

4.

It's six months later that the man goes to New York. 

He calls himself Bucky now because the Winter Soldier had no name and it fits better than anything else. Most of his memories have returned to him, as much as he thinks he'll ever get back and he has accepted this even if the gaps a frustrating.

He wishes he kept more of Barnes' memories but the Soldier lived longer and most of the time he wakes up with the taste of blood in his mouth and the sound of a bullet ringing in his ears. 

It's not a bad life. 

Bucky cut his hair shorter, but it's still longer than anything Barnes' ever wore and now his clothes are clean and he should not be nervous but he can't help it. 

It's easy to find where Steve lives—and he is Steve again, no longer the Captain, no longer an enemy—and even easier to break into it and he's going to have to mention that at some point even if Steve refuses to see him. 

The apartment is nice looking, bigger than the one they had but everything is bigger and nicer these days. Bucky settles in on the couch and flicks through the channels on the tv at some point he must fall asleep because when he opens his eyes it's dark outside and Steve is staring at him, a hand hesitantly reaching out to touch him but making no actual move to. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks and he can hear the hope he's not willing to say out loud. 

Bucky smiles for the first time in years. “Sort of. I don't know if I'm him, if I can be completely. Is that enough for you?” He is both of them and neither of them and he refuses to be the Winter Soldier anymore so the only thing left is Bucky Barnes. 

“Yes!” Steve says and then flushes. “Of course it is.” As if unable to help himself he reaches out and wraps his arms around him and Bucky's never been warmer, never felt safer than he has at that moment. 

Bucky freezes for a second and then clings when he feels Steve start to pull away. “Is this okay?” Steve asks, words whispered out against his collarbone. 

As gently as he can Bucky rests his chin on Steve's shoulder. “Yeah it's good, the best.” he can't remember being hugged before but it's nice. Steve's hand runs up and down his back and Bucky lets himself relax, lets his mind drift for a while. 

“Are you staying?” Steve asks softly a while later but he doesn't make a move to pull away so Bucky stays where he is. 

He's spent the past ten months running, nearly a year of his life and who knows how many years before that under the control of Hydra, of Shield. He's visited many countries even if he can't remember them all and he's burned or destroyed every hydra cell he can remember. He's tried to fix his mistakes but there are still somethings you can't fix no matter how hard you try. 

He deserves a rest, wants one bad. 

“As long as you'll have me.” Bucky says instead. 

He feels Steve's smile wide and beaming against his neck and all of his nerves disappear and it's just nothing but them, the way it should be. 

Steve lets him borrow some of his clothes to sleep in and Bucky crawls into his bed and they're pressed side to side like old times and it's too warm but just warm enough and it's been decades but he'll still never understand why Steve sets his skin on fire just by a touch. 

Bucky glances over at him and then looks away. “He loved you, you know?” He feels bad it's not his secret to tell but at the same time they both deserve to know the truth—Steve and Barnes after all this time. 

There's a huff of air like Steve's trying to find the right words and then just as quietly, “I know, I loved him back.” 

Barnes had never known, never even imagined it to be true, especially not after Peggy and Bucky feels kind of sad even if his heart jolts a bit too. Barnes had died never knowing, still pining and caring, loyal to the end. 

“What about you?”

Bucky doesn't love him, not yet. Right now he's not even sure if he'd know how to but he knows there's no one he cares about more, knows that even when he was at his most broken Steve was the only thing in years upon years that somehow managed to pull him out of it. Steve gave him choices again and then when asked, Steve gave him freedom and trusted that he'd come back. 

“We'll see.” He says simply and Steve laughs quietly, sweetly. 

Steve grabs his hand—the metal one-- and threads their fingers together and neither of them flinch away. 

It's not the same as it was but they've both been changed and neither of them are the men they were back then. 

It's not the same but it's better. 

It's enough.


End file.
